


Of Gold, Of Past

by Cenobia



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, Hermaphrodites, Obsession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenobia/pseuds/Cenobia
Summary: What happens when you discover the love of your life whom you grieved for many a year wasn't quite who you thought they were, and happens to be standing right in front of you again?
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 28





	1. Maelstrom -of the heart-

**Author's Note:**

> Even ancients have vices.

Cool rain fell over her as they walked, rivulets soothing her fair skin. She wasn't paying attention to what her friends were saying; not really. The newly refound darkness of night felt like a calming sea, like home.

Ironic that a so-called Warrior of Light would find such comfort in its antithesis, but it'd always been so. Darkness always had a pull on her, an allure she could never shake.

To anyone else, it would have seemed like it was the approaching footsteps were what broke her out of this moment of calm, yet it couldn't be further from the truth.

A pull, a _yearning_ that she hadn't felt in years. Calling her soul to someone, to someplace that'd make her feel whole again. Gold. those endless pools of gold, so similar to her own.

Her heart hurt.

"You certainly took your time. I had half resolved to complete the task myself."

For a second, she did not register what those words meant at all. No, the feeling of them washing over her, how they made her aether _sing_ in response, was far too distracting. 'Twas only a moment later that she realized who this person looked like. Yet not _quite_.

"For all my study of Garlean history, I was not aware Emperor Solus had a daughter."

The blonde Elezen Black Mage did not care that she was staring at this person as if they had two heads.

"He did not."

Unbidden, she pushed through Urianger's extended arm , taking in the sight of this woman, an oasis of feeling in a desert of drudgery since-

Since Haurchefant had died.

Then why? Why did this person make her heart hurt so? Why did she feel so _familiar_?

Why did she yearn to hold her?

"I see some measure of explanation is still in order. I _am_ Solus yae Galvus. Founder of the Garlean Empire, and under various guises, of many other such nations."

The woman blasély passed her hand over her face, a red sigil covering it before she theatrically bowed in greeting.

"I am Emet-Selch. Ascian."

The theatrics continued, but she paid attention no longer. That name.

It was wrong. Incomplete. She felt clueless as to why, but she _knew_ that was not this woman's name. Not truly. And the damnable pain in her chest would not cease.

"So? Think of it. Is cooperation not preferable to opposition?"

She felt the card about to pass by her, and for reasons unknown even to herself, caught it in midair before it struck the Ascian whom she was by now but an arm's length away from. Much to the protest of her friends, though she did not truly hear or care. Not when she _had_ to understand this pull, this yearning.

She was a woman of learning and science, after all. Or that was the reason she told herself, and not that it was because she could feel the same aura that her only love had coming from this stranger, but a million times stronger.

An extended finger slowly but firmly pressed against the fur on the figure's coat, the adornment giving way under the pressure until she felt the firmness of flesh underneath. Golden eyes locked against golden eyes, never wavering.

A small smile formed on the woman's lips.

"Ah, an olive branch I see, unlike your peers. I am touched."

She pointedly looked down at the warrior of light's hand.

"Rather literally."

"-'twould seem I misjudged your willingness to parlay in person. We will not dismiss it outright."

While Urianger still held himself in wary, he nevertheless approached enough to take back his card which still lingered in her hand.

* * *

By the time she reached her chambers in the Pendants, the feeling was maddening. She'd soldiered on, after the death of her beloved, if only because it was the only thing she could do, and she was the only one who _could_ do the things she does. That had been what kept her going.

Things need to be done because no one else can. Because if she doesn't, no one will, and she couldn't live with that either. Onwards she went, needing to help people _just so she could help them more_ , never denying those in need. A duty, a comfortable numbness.

Now she'd been dragged out of it, kicking and screaming by some Ascian woman who deemed them worthy of her grace. _Why? Why did the pain and yearning come back so violently when she'd buried those feelings so fiercely?_

"You look pained, hero. What is the matter?"

Once again gold met gold, her hand reaching towards the staff in her back. But not quite grasping it. Not yet.

"You. Why do I know you? _How_ do I know you?"

"I do wonder, you seem rather enraptured with me. But I believe a smile suits you better."

She wasn't prepared. Not just for the words, but for the physical _wave_ of aether that hit her, a physical wave of _him_. It was all she could do to stay standing.

"You- You can't be-"

"I swear by the falling snows themselves. You see, 'tis a bad habit of mine. Being unable to leave you be, even if through just a small shard of myself. Over and over again,  
through eons, empires and ages."

His. Hers? She didn't even know anymore, lips curled into a soft smile, eyebrows set in a self-pitying look.

Her own scrunched in fury. Joy. Hurt. Relief. Betrayal. So many emotions at once, she felt like screaming.

She settled for marching forward and slapping the smile out of the Ascian. And feeling awful about it, but she couldn't quite care about that at the moment.

"Do you have. ANY. Idea. How much losing you hurt me!?" Her voice wavered through tears, the grief she'd suppressed for years attempting to rip her very soul apart.

"Why did you do that!? I thought I'd lost you! Forever!" She was surprised at being able to keep the sobs at bay. For now.

Emet's face fell, being able to both see and feel the pain on her turbulent soul, storming to all sides, both lashing out and grasping in despair. Because of him. One more sin to add to his pile.

_It was getting to be a rather sizeable one by now._

"I do." At her confusion, he continued. "I've watched you die in every single life. I was at your side. Every time. So yes, I know how much losing you hurts."

Her whole body shook. This was just- this was all insanity. First she finds out that the love of her life was an Ascian all along, and now that he's been doing this for gods know how long? _Why?_

"What does it even matter then? You know you will be with me again. You do not _lose_ anything!"

His/Eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't I? You're always you, but always unique. The you before this was an aristocrat, a lover of theatre and arts. The one before that a peerless general and tactician. So on and so forth. Each one of those people is lost to me. _Forever._ I mourn them all even as we speak."

" _Then why do you keep doing this?_ " At this point she just wanted to understand. To fathom what this lunatic, this villain, this- this person that so thoroughly stole her heart and made her feel true joy for the first time in her life, wanted from all this.

"Because I cannot force myself to leave you. To be away from you. To not have you at my side. That is the worst fate I can possibly fathom."

It might as well have been the knight of House Fortemps himself saying those words.

That was it. She'd reached her limit. Ishgardian, Ascian, Knight, man, woman, she just did not care anymore. The pain was too great. She pushed the dark-robed figure back, making her fall on the bed, before pouncing on top, hands pinning down her shoulders. Emet was tall, but so was she.

Champagne-coloured hair cascaded from her face to his, clinging to her cheeks where the tears had not yet ceased. Once more their golden eyes were locked on one another.

"Then _why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me like that?_ " Exhaustion robbed her words of the power they should have had, but the despair in her expression hit him just as hard.

"I could not stand it." His voice was a whisper, covered in guilt.

"Being at your side as a mere shard was _killing_ me. You are so radiant, so _whole_ this time. I had to be able to feel you properly, to be with you for once. 'Tis not a noble reason. But it is my reason."

A fresh pang of pain crossed her features, her fist hitting his shoulder weakly.

"And you didn't think of simply EXPLAINING this to me!? Did you think I would reject you, spurn you for being what you are!?"

"Come now, dear. You are well aware of my flair for the dramatic." His eyes avoided hers.

"Perhaps to a fault, sometimes."

He wouldn't admit to himself that he _had_ entertained the thought and the mere possibility of failure had frozen him in terror.

A shivering sigh preceded her slow fall against the soft, padded chest of his current form, her face nuzzled into his neck, feeling for his pulse, to make sure this was real, that maybe, just maybe.

Her reason to _live_ instead of just _exist_ had returned.

"I have not forgiven you just yet."

His eyes carefully wrapped themselves around her, holding that ephemeral, mortal body to his.

"On that we can agree."


	2. Dive -into memories-

She felt the aether gently twist and turn around her, softly but insistently luring her eyes open. The warmth of someone's body under hers, their arms around her, but even more; their aether gently enveloping hers.

Soothing darkness mingling with her light, mixing and flowing together like the most natural thing in the world; like they were made to be so.

Pure white and pure black, joined as one, eating away at corrupting purple and smothering blue.

Memories jolted her into consciousness, recognition that she was not at the Crystarium anymore. An apartment, eerily similar to hers back at the source.

But not quite.

"Where are we?" She should know. She _feels_ that she should know. But it keeps hiding, a fleeting notion at the edges of her mind.

"Home. Or rather, as best a recreation as I could make with limited time. Memories are a fickle thing, even for one such as me." Emet smiled sadly, gently pushing both of them off the bed, all but floating to their feet, yet never letting go of her.

"You mean, our first home? Before all this madness began?" She moved over to the nearby desk, running her fingers against the edge and taking in every detail. "Why does it look like my apartment?"

Emet paused. "What do you mean, love?"

"This is a memory, right? Your memory?" The Warrior of Light asked, double checking every corner.

"'Tis a mental recreation based on such, yes. A memory on its own is insubstantial, fleeti-" The Ascian's form stumbled when she grabbed their hands, a crude and sudden _pull_ on their soul. Only to find themselves in what anyone would classify as a painstaking recreation of the place they'd made, with the limited means of the Source.

The same layout, the same colours. The closest approximations of appliances one could get. _A sad but impressive attempt to create a place of belonging._

"Is this- where you live? Surely you jest." This would mean that she remembers. Maybe not everything, maybe she's not even aware of it. But her soul remembers. For the first time since-

-since the fall of Amaurot.

"I am afraid I am not yet able to 'jest' my own memories, Em-" She stopped, the words finally reaching a peak of wrongness in her being.

"Your name is not Emet-Selch. I do not like calling you so."

"Truly? Then pray tell, what is my name?" This was torture. For the first time in twelve thousand years, they had _hope_. Hope that this time, perhaps, they would find another way. That they could cease carrying the burden of an entire race on their shoulders alone.

_Hope is terrifying._

"H-. It's H-oh godsdamnit. Why can't I remember the rest? It's right there! Why can't I grasp it in my mind? Your real name starts with an H, I know that. This is infuriating!" She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, as if she could force the words to form.

Even if she could, her chance was taken away by an embrace so desperate, an enveloping of her light in darkness so firm yet trembling that her breath was taken away. All she could see was the fur of their coat, all she could hear was a heartbeat and hitched breaths.

All she could feel was the indescribable pain of the soul clinging to hers, grasping and holding onto her being like a lifeline to a drowning child.

"Can I ask you for a promise?" Their voice was strangled, every bit of strength of a paragon behind it simply to hold back sobs from becoming wailing and keening. They still had an iota of pride.

That, and if they started it, they might not ever be able to stop.

"Yes." She could feel her hair becoming damp, but right now that didn't matter. Right now, she could see herself holding Haurchefant in despair as his life ebbed away.

"Don't let me go. Please. Not now." Not when they could see her being close. Not when they finally might have a light to guide them home. To give them a chance to walk away. To show them a path to her, to the _real_ her.

"I won't." She wrapped her arms around them, and like such they stayed. For how long, she didn't know.

* * *

"Well. Seems like I'm late." Ardbert's soul quipped, staring at the- and there was no other way to say it; _Ascian_ currently holding the Warrior of Light. On her bed.

Emet sighed, cracking one eye open as their consciousness came back to reality. "Joy of joys. This is why I have never bothered with your shards. No sense of privacy whatsoever, is that not right; _ghost_?"

Said Warrior of Light blinked a few times, readjusting to being corporeal again. "I swear to the twelve, do I need to put up wards? Or is even that not going to stop people randomly appearing in my chambers?"

"When I asked you to not make the same mistakes, I did not intend for you to turn entirely on your heels. You can't trust them! None of them! We did, and look at what happened! It cost us everything we held dear." His head dipped. "Don't do this."

Her expression soured in offense. "I did _not_ turn on my heels. What, do you expect me to raze the city and bring about the calamity come daybreak? Swear allegiance to Zodiark and start burning babies for fun?"

She didn't see, but could _feel_ Emet's grin beneath her. "It would be endlessly entertaining, I will say that much."

"I beg of you, at least be cautious. You know all they want is to bring about calamities, regardless of their other intentions. Please never forget that." He had to at least make some sort of point. She was the very last shred of hope for this world he tried so hard to save. He could do nothing more but try and guide her.

"I am s-" Emet stopped themselves in self-pedantry "-laying right here. And do not assume to know my true goals. Calamities are merely means, not an end." They rolled over, gently placing the Warrior of Light on her back before standing up, the dark tendrils of their soul radiating disdain at the spectre.

"The whole _reason_ I stand here at this moment is to look for another way. To seek coexistence with her, and gods forbid, _your kind_. Because while the very notion of the latter **disgusts** me, she is worth it. Unlike the poor parody of her soul that you are." Their glare was withering, yet Ardbert did not back down.

"And I am to believe that an Ascian can have a change of heart? Because of _love!?_ That suddenly the deaths and suffering of **BILLIONS** don't matter because, somehow, this time she's _special!?_ " While he knew that interacting physically with the world was beyond him now, Ardbert was about to try interacting his axe with that infuriating face anyway.

"Enough!" A wall of aetherial fire separated the two, both looking towards its source: a rather annoyed blonde Elezen that pinned them both in place with a single, golden stare.

Taking a second to breathe and recompose herself, she continued. "Ardbert. I understand that this might seem unorthodox, but I know them. I've known them for a long time, even if I was not aware of that before. If they also seek a better way, is blind aggression not just a repeat of what led to the flood of light in the first place?"

He looked away. As much as it irked him, she had a point.

"And you." The Warrior of Light dissipated her spell, moving forwards and gently taking Emet's hands into hers. "Saving the world is tiresome enough on its own. I believe you, so could you perhaps not make me have to break up fights between you and every single one of my comrades?" She smiled tiredly.

They chuckled, pulling her closer. "'Tis like we're back in the Academia all over again. But very well, I promise to try. I will defend myself, however."

"All I can ask for. Well, that and some rest. Today has been exhausting in every sense of the word."

* * *

Incessant beeping slowly roused a sleepy mage, despite how much she wished it to not be so. She'd almost forgotten how the alarm set on her prototype tomestone even sounded, so often it was that it went unused, on account of her already being awake.

Once more she felt the warmth and softness of the body beneath hers, the soothing darkness under her light. For the first time in years, she even felt well rested.

"Good morning, Hero. You certainly took your time resting, not that I terribly mind in this particular case." They said with somehow a mix of a smirk and a genuine pleased smile, caressing the Warrior of Light's neck and cheek with a naked hand.

"'Morning, H-" The words died in her throat. "Oh hells, it's too early for me to be annoyed." A wide yawn with an accompanying stretching of her body only proved her point. It was then that she caught something on the corner of her eye.

The aetherial space where she kept her belongings, wide open atop the two. And of course, her new(once more)found lover browsing them like the window of a shop.

"Emet-Selch, are you _spying on my things?_ " With a wave of her hand, the tear in reality metaphorically slammed shut, though their hand had managed to grasp a Gunblade from within.

"My apologies love, I just sought for a way to entertain myself that did not involve antagonizing your companions, as in keeping with my promise from last night. You must admit, my options here were rather limited if I wished to avoid waking you up." One of their finely shaped eyebrows quirked up. "I had thought you disliked calling me that."

"I do, which is why I've reserved it for occasions such as when you annoy me." Platinum blonde hair reflected the sunlight streaming through the window while she got up. Procrastinating was never her forte, and doubtlessly there would be much to do ere long. So refreshing herself it was.

"I shall endeavour to keep said moments to a minimum then." One more. One more to the seemingly ever growing pile of knives stabbing their heart at her being _so close yet so far_. 'Twas like watching a loved one delirious from disease.

Which, from a certain point of view, was not inaccurate. Yet it pained them to see all the same, _because_ she was so close. They needed something to occupy their mind before melancholy overtook them. The weapon still on their hand was as good as anything else.

"Say, who created this design? 'Tis almost like a Bosjan and a Garlean gunblade made sweet, forbidden love to eachother." The irony tickled them. Forbidden love was indeed the notion of the day.

"You are talking to her. Neither of those fulfilled my needs, so I made my own." She brushed her hair. "I needed something with the ability to use aether but that could also strike at range. It uses a modified loading system that can divert power to an aetherochemical chamber for firing if required."

Emet smiled wistfully. How like their lover, to see designs and seek to improve them in ways completely ignoring any sort of cultural taboo. Once an innovator, always an innovator it seemed.

"I will admit, 'tis a surprise to see you dabbling in a more martial art. From everything I'd seen, one would assume you to focus entirely on spellcraft." Even if they'd been remiss for a time.

"I normally do not, but weaving incantations when you have a rabid crown prince finding the meaning of life or somesuch by swinging blades at you gets tiresome after a while." The frustration in her voice at simply remembering it was palpable. And, to them, hilarious.

"Surely you jest, Hero? Did my great grandson truly exasperate you to the degree where you have invented an entire new subtype of weapon for the sole purpose of striking him down?" It was all they could to not fall into hysterics.

She whipped around, fully into a rant. "He had the _gall_ to call me a **friend!** Can you believe that? Not only that, but to claim that we are one and the same, that we fight simply for the pleasure of it. The daft sod! This is merely my _job_ , not what I enjoy!" She stopped herself before the rant went on for a bell.

"Nay, my love, tell me how you _truly_ feel." The Warrior of Light stared at that smug, amused, unfairly handsome face. Quite how the Ascian had managed to craft a visage more handsome than even the form she knew before, despite being a _female_ one at that (which one would think to naturally lean towards beautiful rather than handsome), would forever be a mystery.

"Very funny." Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile. "Now come, I am sure they are waiting for us by now."

Shrugging, Emet followed the one soul who made existence still worth it for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, Emet is more openly emotional in this interpretation. Hard not to be when you love someone this sickly much.


	3. Drifting -souls in chaos-

“Ah, there you are. Just in ti-” Alisaie’s words died in her throat at the company the Warrior of Light had at her side.

All eyes turned to the pair, a mix of confusion and worry permeating the room. The mage turned to her companion, a silent request for help.

“Please, the stage is yours my dear. I am but another spectator at the edge of my seat.” Emet-Selch gestured theatrically, their smile holding no small amount of mirth. The Elezen shook her head, mumbling to herself. 

“Make me regret it already, why don’t you.”

Regardless, she took a step forward, clapping her hands once to break the silence. “Let us get the worst out of the way first. May I present you _Haurchefant Greystone_ , in the- well, original flesh.” It was odd how flexible the mind was, for something so utterly _absurd_ she now knew to be the absolute truth. 

Of all involved, Alphinaud was the one to speak up first. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given he was the one who knew the late Knight best, other than the Warrior of Light herself. “That is- surely you jest. You cannot believe such a tasteless ruse to be true.” 

He didn’t _want_ to believe it, not in a million years. He held the man in extremely high regard for his endless desire to help them in their hour of need. 

Golden eyebrows angled together in offense. “Lest you forget Alphinaud, I _very much_ remember everything about Haurchy, including how his soul felt. It is not something that can be copied, Ascian or not.” 

There was only one person in existence whose very being naturally flowed together with hers like missing pieces of a puzzle, and they were standing with her right now. And now moving behind- _what were they playing at this time?_

“Perhaps the young lord might benefit-” The voice behind her deepened, the sound of soft shoes on the crystal floor changing to the solid impact of greaves. “-from a small refresher.”

The seal of House Fortemps on chainmail greeted their sight when the man emerged on the other side of the Warrior of Light, ever messy silver hair shining in the light. The Leveilleur brother stared in disbelief, mouth agape.

_“Gods be good, it cannot be.”_

“I don’t see why not.” The visage of Haurchefant shrugged. “I have been doing it for eons. Shaping a fraction of my own soul for-” He looked fondly at the one person he’d never give up on. “- _purposes_ , is trivial for an unsundered.”

The form dissipated in a haze of darkness, the face of a female Solus once again looking at them. Yet unknown even to the paragon, both Minfilia and Urianger noticed something. Small, almost imperceptible. But there.

A small sliver of light.

“I did explicitly say we would be meeting again soon, did I not? Besides, I have a promise to keep. I have no desire to meddle with your efforts- it would be counterproductive to mine.” They smirked in self-satisfaction.

The Warrior of Light crossed her arms, half-smiling. “So much for the stage being mine. I’ve half a mind to declare your theatrics as pathological at this point.”

The others present took a moment to process the seamlessness with which their keystone played off of, as far as they knew, one of the most wretched villains in the history of Hydaelyn. Like a duet with the experience of lifetimes. It either bode well-

-or very, very badly.

“You’ll forgive us for expecting second, third and fourth intentions being involved.” Thancred narrowed his eyes, but his hand did not quite reach for the gunblade, unlike the night before. “I’m afraid this will be a case of ‘wait and see’ on our part.”

Truth be told, he wanted to just rush forward and cleave that smirk in half, but two things made him play nice- Urianger’s hand silently requesting him to stand down for now;

-and the noticeable detail that their esteemed Black Mage still stood at the Ascian’s side instead of joining their group.

Emet-Selch replayed their favourite shrug. “That is good enough of a compromise for me. Go ahead, wage your war against the Sin Eaters. Have our dear _hero_ put each and every Lightwarden to the sword-” They looked at the staff safely attached to her back. “-metaphorical it may be.” That earned a small smile from the Elezen.

“Prove yourselves worthy allies in safekeeping this star. Of bearing the burden of _truth._ Difficult decisions lie ahead of you, ones best made with the knowledge privy only to those who are _eternal_.” A dramatic pause hung in the air. 

“But I digress. For now, I shall return to my place in the audience. Do go on, resume the saving of the world and whatnot.” A nonchalant wave of their hand marked the Paragon’s retreat to lean against the nearest wall, stopping only to lock lips and tongue against a startled Warrior of Light for a moment. 

A petty display, perhaps. But the waves of smugness that she could feel emanating from them once the room descended into shock bellied that it was entirely intentional. 

* * *

  
  


“Truly Incorrigible.” Emet-Selch shook their head in amusement. The Warrior of Light- and now Darkness -could scarce step foot near a settlement before being greeted by the myriad and one residents who’d received her help in one form or another.

Saving a life, delivering a sandwich, it mattered not. If there was someone to be helped, they would do so, and the world would simply have to wait.

“I presume you speak of my penchant for fixing things?” The Elezen waved back to Callea, leading the group towards an old, underground church. ‘Twas true, an ancient tablet with forgotten scriptures would indeed make a suitable gift for her dearest friend.

Three years. Her anger at G’raha’s sloppiness aside, it gave her some cause for concern. Not that she believed the Scion incapable of fending for herself, of course. The Miqo’te was one of the very few the blonde would consider a peer in the arcane arts.

If anything, that was the entire reason for her worry- ‘shtola took to forbidden spells like a cat to fish. 

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

With an entirely new realm of knowledge for the woman to peruse, who could tell what sorts of dangerous incantations she’d have under her thumb.

To be entirely fair, she wasn’t one to talk. The constant experimentation in the realm of Black Magic she undertook was undeniably dangerous- but just as undeniably useful. After being able to concentrate an entire Flare to a single point, she didn’t know exactly how to push the Fire aspect any further, but the further attunement of Ice at will looked rather promising.

“That I am. One of the threads that connect every single life you’ve ever lived. It’s an inexorable part of your soul. Honourable, if near ever troublesome.” Despite themselves, the Ascian couldn’t help but smile at the breadth of memories of their times together through the eons. 

Painful as they were with the diminished state of their lover, the good memories had been worth it.

Even if they weren’t, ‘tis not like the Paragon could do aught else. They simply did not have it in their heart. 

Otherwise, their path would slowly but surely lead them to madness. The weight of a thousand thousand dead souls was simply too great to bear without an anchor, a vice, an obsession to keep them sane. 

Lahabrea thought to be above such things- that his role as the Speaker would be enough to stay his mind. He never quite realized the mounting proof to the opposite over the ages, of his sanity slowly unraveling. 

Or at least, so Emet chose to believe. Otherwise, it’d mean that the tragic fool _was_ aware of his downfall, but was powerless to stop it. That was too pitiful of an end for a member of the Convocation.

“What can I say. I see something that needs to be fixed, I fix it. ‘Tis simply less annoying than the opposite.” The Warrior of Light exemplified her argument by sending precise orbs of flame into the darkness of the hall ahead, carefully lighting the area. 

Did she have to? No. 

Would she take every possible opportunity to abuse spellcraft for mundane uses? 

Always and ever.

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it literally thousands of times before.” The Ancient took in the sight of the place, humming in appreciation. “Remarkably well preserved, and not badly decorated at that.” Yet, was that not the endless dichotomy with the sundered? Capable of touching accomplishments one moment, soul-withering horror the next. 

An endless rollercoaster of joy and sorrow, desperate beings trying to experience life before ‘tis all too soon taken away from them. A quintessential tragedy. 

Or perhaps they were simply being too emotional thanks to the current situation. About equal odds, truth be told.

Urianger half-smiled. “One attuned to the Darkness would be likely to think so. While this lodging was once home to reverers of light, the flood madeth such allegiances rather rare. In their place, the Night’s Blessed did take hold. At least temporarily, ere finding sanctuary in Rak’tika Greatwood.”

The Astrologian continued. “Oft and many times did Eulmore make spurious overtures of friendship unto them, but they are no fools. The Exarch knoweth full well that Y’shtola, in her seclusion, doth labor to learn all she may of the Blessed and their past. ‘Tis why he sent us here, I now see.” 

“To be quite honest, it seems like rather too much ado for a simple reunion of friends.” Emet shrugged.

“I take that to mean you do not bring me a gift whenever we meet in my lifetimes? So terribly unromantic.” The blonde Elezen shook her head in mock disappointment.

“Why, quite the opposite my dear. I am merely the best gift I could possibly think of.” The Ascian smiled smugly, the lines of their feminine visage lending credence to that being the standard expression at any and all times.

* * *

  
  


“No lands must remain beyond our grasp. Go forth. Conquer. _Rule._ ” The seemingly female version of Soluz zos Galvus declared in a forlorn voice, spreading their arms wide under the shadow of titanic trees in remembrance, before sighing.

“Forgive me. Merely nostalgia for days and lives gone by.” Their shoulders sagged in sadness.

“Excuse me, Miss Selch?” Minfilia’s timid voice brought the group's attention towards her, the small form trying to shrink behind the tablet she carried in response. To no avail, of course. 

“I might be misunderstanding, but you’ve been alongside the Warrior of Light through her other incarnations?”

A finely shaped eyebrow rose before a chuckle left their lips. “Not exactly a miss, young one. Separate genders like yours are merely a reflection of the lacking nature of your souls. We Ancients have little need for such differentiations. We are, by ourselves, whole.” They gestured to their current body nonchalantly.

“This form is merely the closest approximation I could make with the resources available to me in limited time. ‘Tis sufficient.” A smirk pointed itself in the direction of the resident Black Mage. “Would you not say so, love?”

She crossed her arms, taking the time to gaze at her partner from head to toe before smiling. “While there was nothing wrong with your previous body, I have to admit this new one is rather pleasing to the eye as well. But then again, isn’t pandering to my tastes simply cheating?” Not that it mattered anyway. 

The way their aether flowed together, swirling and mixing just by being in proximity to eachother, was far more important. Since the previous night, her soul had felt _whole_ . Much as she begrudged to accept, the connection was even stronger than when the Ascian had the form of Haurchefant. There was simply _more_ of it.

Which she would never, ever get enough of.

“I prefer the term ‘targeted appeasement’.” They turned to Minfilia once again. “As to your earlier question, yes, you have the right of it. I’ve been at her side in one form or another for as long as time has existed.”

Thancred scoffed. “Next you’ll tell me she was the Empress of Garlemald during your reign.”

A self-satisfied smile graced their features. “Is that not obvious? _Lucceia yae Galvus._ ” The Ascian’s expression softened, looking up at the sky, but seeing only memories instead of blinding light. 

“A guiding beacon to the entire Empire during its early days. The people might have _listened_ to me, to be sure. But they loved _you._ No matter so small, no person so unimportant that you’d turn your attention away from their troubles. Not a fighter by nature, but a peerless diplomat.”

Their gaze fell onto the Elezen, soft eyes joining a sad smile in their features. “Were you not at my side, the blood of so many more would have had to be spilled. A nation is powerless without unity, a unity that you were the keystone of.” 

The Warrior of Light was speechless for a moment, before bringing a palm to her face in exasperation. “ _Oh dear gods, I am that idiot’s great-grandmother._ ” Her groan of dismay was eclipsed by the laughter from Emet-Selch.

“Truly, your distaste for the rabid prince will never cease to be amusing to me.” Their laughter was gone just as quickly as it arrived. “For what it’s worth, by the time he was born, you-” They sighed, blinking slowly. “-Lucceia had long since passed away. I’d imagine his disposition would be rather different were that not the case.”

Pointless. Such absolutely pointless suffering and loss of life. Their firstborn, the Empress, so many who did not deserve such fate. The mere thought was enough to cause their determination to find another way to waver.

 _But she was so close._ So tantalizingly, _painfully_ close to being whole again. 

Perhaps they could-

-Nay. It was tempting, but far too risky. The Paragon snuffed the idea from their mind before it took hold. 

Or so they told themselves.

“An Ascian with feelings. Now I’ve truly seen everything.” Thancred shook his head, resuming the march into the depths of the jungle. The rest of the group kept pace, making for an old destroyed camp. 

“Two years past, a swarm of Sin Eaters did lay waste unto the Blessed’s largest settlement, killing a great many of their priests in so doing. Though some few did survive, they knew not how to go on.” Urianger smiled. “Of course, with Y’shtola present, the matter was resolved apace. Ever since, she has been their guide.”

* * *

  
  


“Lay waste is correct. It might as well have been me that burned this place to the ground, so thorough it’s been.” The Warrior of Light ran her clawed glove by the wood of a burned house, divots showing the material had been carbonized through. ‘Twas a minor miracle it still stood.

“I see little sign of recent activity, nor hath any meaningful progress been made with the reconstruction. Mayhap Y'shtola sought shelter elsewhere. Come, let us quit this place.” The male Elezen pushed onwards.

“Just how long have neither of you spoken to her for?” Golden eyes narrowed at her comrades. 

She could certainly understand them being busy, but this had started to sound either suspicious- 

-Or that the main thing holding the Scions together had been her and Tataru. While the Black Mage hoped that wasn’t the case, it seemed more and more likely with each passing hour. The thought consternated her somewhat. 

Her relationship with the organization had always been somewhat tenuous. While Minfilia- The original one -had heralded the Elezen as their champion, she’d complied more out of politeness than anything else.

That’s not to say she held no fondness for the members themselves. For _select_ members, at least. Other than ‘shtola, with which she’d become fast friends over their shared interest in the arcane, Alisaie was another bond that had quickly developed once the young woman deemed to show herself again.

Tataru was also someone she’d learned to enjoy the company of over time. While the Lalafell had seemed somewhat sinister early on, time and shared hardships taught the Elezen that the diminutive treasurer/receptionist/spy simply wished to aid the group to the best of her abilities.

As for the rest- well, she didn’t _dislike_ them per se, but they certainly leaned more towards professional acquaintances than true friends. Either thanks to incompatible personalities, bad habits, or a simple lack of time spent together. 

‘Twas just odd to think that without her, the entire group simply drifted apart.

“The span of a year and a half, give or take a few moons.” Urianger acquiesced, diverting his gaze. It seemingly took someone _else_ pointing it out for him to realize that was far too long.

“Ah. A bit longer in my case, I’m afraid.” Thancred scratched the side of his nose, finding the trunk of a distant tree mightily interesting in a hurry.

The Warrior of Light’s face closed in displeasure, her hands reaching out to grasp an ear from each of the men and twisting just enough to make it uncomfortable. “Now, does anyone here know what 10 ponzes of torque does to a spoken ear?”

“Ah- tears it off?” The youngest of the party helpfully offered, confused.

“Very good, youngling. Now, unless both of you change your _lackadaisical_ approach to companionship, I will make an example of it upside your heads. _Are we clear?_ ” Darkness-aspected aether flowed out of the mage in droves, giving her words an ethereal, _and chilling,_ quality.

“Absolutely.” The gunblader swallowed drily, forcing a smile.

“Thou hast made a rather unforgettable point.” The astrologian agreed.

“Good!” She smiled, letting go of her prey and withdrawing her aura. The colour slowly returned to the local plant life. Emet-Selch smirked in the background, their voice dripping with sarcasm.

_“Peerless.”_

“Halt! Whatever you are!” An imposing Hrothgar approached the group in dark garbs, flanked by many an archer and spellcaster. The warriors quickly surrounded the group, but did not point weapons. Yet.

“You encroach upon the territory of the Night’s Blessed! Identify yourselves!” 

The female Elezen broke into a smile, bowing politely. “Just who we were looking for! We are good friends of _Master Matoya._ We come bearing a gift of knowledge and a request of her aid for a certain project of ours that would benefit us both.” 

At a small nod from the older woman, Minfilia stepped forward, presenting the tablet she’d carried. 

“I- I see. You’ll excuse us if we confirm with-” The large feline was interrupted by an imposing voice. 

“Runar, report.” The representative of the group stepped aside, turning to the new arrival.

“Master Matoya! We have intercepted them as ordered. They claim to be friends of yours.” The man relayed with a far less commanding voice.

Y’shtola stepped forward, staring at the group with white eyes. “Yes, I recognize those two ingrates, and the girl must be Minfilia of the First, of whom that one spoke before.” Her sight focused on the two tallest members. 

“But I do not know who the others are.”

The Black Mage’s face fell. “Has time truly made me a stranger to my dearest friend?” Her voice wavered slightly. For their part, Emet’s eyebrows arose in recognition before slightly shaking their head in disbelief.

_And so the pieces continue to fall in place as if by fate itself._

The Miqo’te’s eyes widened, a hand almost covering her mouth in surprise. “Oh dear gods- Naline, I did not recognize you _whatsoever._ My apologies- your aether, ‘tis entirely different from when I last saw you. _Concerningly_ blinding in its intensity.” 

“Perhaps the cause would be that not one but two Lightwardens have perished under our dear hero’s spells so far.” The ‘Garlean’ announced without preamble, languidly stepping forward and putting a hand to their heart in mock pity. “I can understand why the colour of her soul would be harder to discern for someone _less gifted._ ”

“ _Less-_ ” The shorter spellcaster turned to the soul she saw as a swirling mass of darkness with wisps of light, suppressing her indignation temporarily. “And who might you be, may I ask?”

The Paragon grinned, making a show of bowing theatrically. “Emet-Selch. _Ascian-_ ” They nonchalantly moved behind the Warrior of Light, gently guiding her chin with a curled finger to make their lips, and tongues, meet for a brief moment.

“-and lover.” 

“They do that a lot, don’t they?” Minfilia whispered to her ersatz father figure, blushing.

Y’shtola’s mind took several seconds to create a suitable vocal description of her thoughts.

_“What in the f-”_

  
  



End file.
